


Good Morning, Dave Starsky

by applecameron



Category: Starsky and Hutch - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-06-10
Updated: 2005-06-10
Packaged: 2018-09-15 00:40:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9212081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/applecameron/pseuds/applecameron





	

Damn, it was hot. It was going to be one of those days where you wake up sweating and never stop. Ugh. He lay spreadeagled on the bed, nothing but the old birthday suit on, sheets and blankets pushed down to the foot of the bed, and _sweated_ , somewhere on the border of sleep and wake, which, for a man in the morning, could often be on the border of lustful thoughts and "not coordinated enough to jack off yet".

Not all of the lustful thoughts were ones he could repeat in impolite company, including the company he kept most regularly. Definitely not that company. Starsky scratched, dick twitching to half-mast, then angled a pillow over his eyes and tried to sleep. He knew it wouldn't work. Well, then, dream impossible dreams, David, of the blond boy with the white white smile. What would his mother say? If you have to love a boy, why not a nice doctor?

Sleep must have won that argument after all, because the next thing he knew, his bedroom door was opened, and Hutch was looking down at him, not smiling yet but looking like he was gonna. "Hey." A pair of jeans landed on his face. "Get some clothes on. They don't like us to work in the nude."

"Yeah, where would I put my badge?" Starsky replied, pulling the jeans away a little and giving them a sniff. Not too rank. Okay.

"And what would happen if you grabbed the wrong stick trying to shift?"

Then the door was shut, and Hutch was surely laughing on the other side.

Laughing when you're not awake yet can actually be dangerous, did you know that? Starsky was reminded of this when his laughter turned into a bark of pain as his shin hit the little bureau against the wall.

Lickety-split shower, and he was heading for the kitchen, where his partner was quite possibly doing something vile to some poor defenseless food group. There oughtta be a law.

"Hey, you could knock on the door once in a while." He was still a little damp, which felt good. Jeans, no shirt. Bare feet on floor that hadn't gotten the message about any heat wave just yet.

"What, and pass up my morning vision of loveliness?"

Damn. He _was_ doing something vile to food.

Starsky picked up a glass of something. "This doesn't have kelp in it, does it?"

"No kelp." Hutch held up his hand. "Scout's honor."

"You were no scout." He sniffed suspiciously. Drank anyway. Nothing Hutch fed him had killed him, yet. Yet.

"Oh, yes, I was."

Starsk chuckled. "Cute little uniform. Badges."

His partner cleaned up Starsky's dishes at lightning speed. Starsky watched his back as Hutch scrubbed. The blond head turned. "And for your information, it was the girl scouts that were cute." He rinsed something and put in on the drying rack. " _We_ learned to start fires with our bare hands."

"That's a useful skill in an urban environment." From the side he could see Hutch's mouth twitch. Starsk polished off whatever horrible thing was in his glass and handed it to Hutch. "I have two words for you, partner." Starsky purred in the other man's ear. "Short. Pants."

"All right, already!"

Yeah. Now he was awake.


End file.
